


Songs of the South

by Corporal_Cupcake



Category: Stagecoach West
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/M, Non-Graphic Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Romance, Western
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:11:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3716404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corporal_Cupcake/pseuds/Corporal_Cupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke Perry was usually very sure of himself. Tonight he was only sure of two things. He was drunk, and he needed to talk to the woman with the southern accent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lorena

**Author's Note:**

> The very first Stagecoach West Fanfic. Like most of my writing, our heros will suffer a lot of angst before the fluff starts.

Luke was drunk, drunker than he'd been in a long time. Which, quite frankly, was just fine by him. The week has started out fine enough. He'd gotten back from a run to San Francisco on Tuesday, Wednesday he found out that he'd been carrying a letter addressed to him. The letter was from his grandmomma's preacher in Shenandoah. Seems she'd died in the night about two months back and the letter had only just gotten to him. On Thursday, one of his horses died from colic. Friday morning Sime and Davey had left on the stage. By noon Luke had saddled up and made the ride to Timberline. He got to Timberline at eight and had started drinking, four hours later he hadn't stopped.

He sat at the bar, glass in one hand, a near empty bottle of rye whiskey in the other. Pouring himself another shot he downed it in one before refilling his glass. He heard a woman's voice ring out, her southern accent standing out over the din of the crowd. “Gentlemen! I'm so glad to see y'all here with us tonight. I hope y'all have been enjoying the show, we've sure enjoyed performing for you.” Luke turned to see where the familiar sounding accent was from, a short brunette stood on the small stage at the back of the saloon. “Sadly though, it's time for us to go.” She was greeted with a round of disapproving jeers. “Oh, well, I suppose I could give you one more song...” The men cheered and Luke watched the other showgirls walk through the crowd looking for prospective customers for the night. The crowd fell silent as she sang the sad tune.

“ __Oh, the years creep slowly by, Lorena,  
The snow is on the ground again.  
The sun's low down the sky, Lorena,  
The frost gleams where the flow'rs have been.  
But the heart beats on as warmly now,  
As when the summer days were nigh.  
Oh, the sun can never dip so low  
A-down affection's cloudless sky.  
A hundred months have passed, Lorena,  
Since last I held that hand in mine,  
And felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena,  
Though mine beat faster far than thine.  
A hundred months, 'twas flowery May,  
When up the hilly slope we climbed,  
To watch the dying of the day,  
And hear the distant church bells chime.”

Luke stood at the bar, staring at the woman, she was beautiful. Her curves were accentuated by the corset she wore and the short, dark blue dress and petticoat made her skin appear paler that it was. He turned to the bar and waved the bartender over. “Who's she?”

“ __We loved each other then, Lorena,  
Far more than we ever dared to tell;  
And what we might have been, Lorena,  
Had but our loving prospered well --  
But then, 'tis past, the years are gone,  
I'll not call up their shadowy forms;  
I'll say to them, "Lost years, sleep on!  
Sleep on! nor heed life's pelting storms."  
The story of that past, Lorena,  
Alas! I care not to repeat,  
The hopes that could not last, Lorena,  
They lived, but only lived to cheat.  
I would not cause e'en one regret  
To rankle in your bosom now;  
For "if we try we may forget,"  
Were words of thine long years ago.  
Yes, these were words of thine, Lorena,  
They burn within my memory yet;  
They touched some tender chords, Lorena,  
Which thrill and tremble with regret.”

The burly man behind the bar smirked at Luke. “That's Melody, she's the best girl we've got... Probably to pricey for ya, son.”

“ _'Twas not thy woman's heart that spoke;_  
Thy heart was always true to me:  
A duty, stern and pressing, broke  
The tie which linked my soul with thee.  
It matters little now, Lorena,  
The past is in the eternal past;  
Our heads will soon lie low, Lorena,  
Life's tide is ebbing out so fast.  
There is a Future! O, thank God!  
Of life this is so small a part!  
'Tis dust to dust beneath the sod;  
But there, up there, 'tis heart to heart.”

Luke glared at the bartender. “I don't remember askin' your opinion.” He finished what was left of his drink. “Just give me another glass.” Luke grabbed his hat along with the two glasses and remaining whiskey. Stumbling a bit in his drunkenness he made his way to the table closest to the stage stairs. As Melody climbed down the stairs Luke stood, trying to maintain his balance. “Miss Melody, ma'am, could I please offer you a drink? I'm sure it's not the most appealing offer you'll get tonight but,” He looked down sheepishly. “I haven't talked to anyone from down South in a coon's age. 'Sides, I haven't heard anyone sing Lorena since I was soldiering. I certainly haven't heard it sung that pretty.”

Melody smiled at him and nodded. “I'd love to have a drink with you soldier boy, it's like you said, to many damn Yankees out in these parts.” She sat in the chair Luke pulled out for her and took the drink he offered sipping the rye slowly. “You seem to have me at a loss soldier boy, you know my name but I don't know yours.” She looked him over, taking in his dirty blonde curls and stormy gray eyes, he was handsome and couldn't be much older than her twenty six years.

“Luke, Luke Perry, ma'am. I'm from Virginia, where abouts are you from?” He leaned closer to hear her voice clearer.

“Well, first and foremost Mister Perry, I would greatly appreciate it if you didn't call me ma'am. My name is Melody, and to be quite honest with you, I'd prefer to call you Luke if you'd allow it.” Luke nodded, smile growing on his face. “Well,” she continued “now that we've gotten that worked out. I'm from Georgia. Atlanta, specifically, I'm sure you can guess why I left.” She smiled sadly at Luke. “So, what's got you look'n so sad?”

Luke studied the table quietly before speaking. “I've been homesick for a while now, and I just found out my granny died.” When Luke looked up Melody couldn't help but notice how lost he looked. "It's just been a tough week all around, and with my birthday comin' up, knowin' that none of my friends'll be there..." He trailed off. Logically, Luke knew he was making a mistake. Painted ladies were always trouble, and as much as he'd like to pretend that these ladies weren't all soiled doves, selling themselves after hours, he couldn't, even drunk he was too honest with himself. He prayed to the whiskey in front of him that the next shots would help him push aside the thought that Melody was only talking to him for the money. Melody put her hand over Luke's own and stayed quiet a while, at a loss for what to say. Luke looked at the whiskey bottle as if it had betrayed him, and poured the last two drinks. Throwing back his drink Luke looked up at Melody, he looked at her heart shaped face staring longingly into her blue eyes. "I'm sure you've got more important people to talk to tonight ma... Melody. I'd hate to keep you."

Melody squeezed his hand and smiled broadly. "It just so happens, Luke, that I would rather stay and talk to you than be anywhere else in this world right now." She finished her drink and leaned in closer to Luke, whispering in his ear she asked. "Whadda ya say we go for a walk? I've been here all day." The two left together and walked to the edge of town. Spying a boulder large enough for them both to sit on, she smiled. "Give me a hand up, won'tcha Soldier Boy." Luke laughed and lifted her on to the boulder, quickly climbing it himself. "You know what I miss the most? Magnolia trees. Y'know the ones that were so big you could walk in them like they had stairs."

For the first time that night Luke's smile met his eyes. "Growin' up, we had a magnolia in granny's yard. I'd get in so much trouble climbin' that old tree. Broke my arm falling out of it once." Tentatively, Luke put his arm around Melody, sighing contentedly as she leaned into his side. The two southerners sat there trading stories and laughing. Luke found himself telling her more about himself than he'd told anyone in a long time, it felt good and his bad mood had completely gone. Before he'd thought it through, Luke had turned and lifted Melody's chin. Pressing his lips to hers he kissed her deeply.

Melody sighed into Luke's kiss. She felt safe by his side and lighter than she had since her grandfather had left her in Timberline. Luke's lips were soft against hers and she melted into the kiss. Smiling as he peppered her face with gentle kisses, she slid into Luke's lap. Wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and lacing her fingers through his curls. she smiled at the moan it drew from him. As his lips pressed against the side of her neck Melody sighed. She couldn't ever remember a man making her feel like this before. Luke was sweet and caring, she felt safe as his strong arms wrapped tighter and pulled her closer to his large frame. She knew she should stop this, whatever was happening here would end poorly, messily. She couldn't convince herself to stop though, she liked being in Luke's arms.

It was late now, the clock in the center of town chimed three and Luke finally pulled back to look at Melody. She was flushed and her lips were a deep pink, kiss bruised color. He smiled before pressing his forehead to hers. "Melody, can I... What I mean to say is, I'd like to take you to bed." He held his breath waiting for an answer, his hand stroking nervously up and down her back.

Melody frowned. She wanted more than anything at that moment to go with Luke. To feel his strong arms around her, to know for sure that men could be gentle. To not wake up feeling ill and used. She shook her head sadly. "I... You don't want to know me Luke, not like that." She slid out of his lap and away from him, shivering at the sudden lack of warmth. "I'm not a good woman to know." She couldn't look at him, couldn't stand to see the look of hurt on his face. Best to make it impersonal, hurt him now so she doesn't have to hurt later. "This was fun Luke, but I'm am expensive woman. You had a good time, I brought your mood up, that's that." She slid off the boulder, and looked up at the man she wanted to comfort. He looked so sad, so alone up there. She couldn't stay. She started back toward town, back to her small room in the saloon, back to her isolation. She'd get some sleep and try to forget that Luke Perry had ever come into her life.

Luke's voice rang out in the quite night. Bitterly he asked "How much do I owe you then?"

Melody winced at the pain in his voice and willed herself to keep walking. Without turning around she called back to him. "Consider it an early birthday present soldier boy." When she got back to her room Melody sobbed. Mourning for a normal life, a life where she could've run off with Luke, a life where she could be happy, she cried herself to sleep.

 

 

 


	2. Fairy Belle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long, lonely ride to Outpost is the last thing Luke wants or needs after the night he's had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After writing this chapter I feel that is is necessary to explain a few things. The show takes place in the old west about five to ten years after the Civil War ended. (I have decided to split the difference and call it eight years. This makes the year the story takes place in 1873 and means that Luke is about to turn 27.) Luke was raised in Virginia, for the purposes of this story I chose Shenandoah as his home. Shenandoah was a fairly important part of the Confederacy's war effort thanks to the iron found in the area and the three local iron forges. Close to Shenandoah you can find the Virgina Military Academy, Luke's alma mater, the school provided and education and also provided Virginia with a standing militia. The School's cadets were essentially conscripted to fight, because of this I put Luke somewhere around sixteen in 1863. The VMI boys fought in many significant battles and provided many of the South's great military officers. Luke fought in many of the battles that VMI was involved in, the most famous being the Battle of New Market. 
> 
> I'm bringing this up as a backdrop to this story, but also to explain some of Luke's thought process. Luke was raised in a small southern town. Shenandoah is bordered by mountains, forests, and rivers and the town was fairly Insular thanks to it's geographical location. Luke would have been raised with a very strong sense of southern pride. Combine that with a southern military academy force feeding him propaganda and his idea of what was going on in the rest of the country would have been very skewed, despite the fact that he had a very high education level for the time. He also would have likely come from a fairly upper class family. These people were not farmers, they could afford to send at least one, if not all of their boys, to an elite school. It's likely that they owned shares in either an iron mine, a logging company, a shipping company, or a forge. The ideas these people would have had about why the Civil War, or the War of Northern Aggression, started would have been far from the truth. The VMI Cadets would have been taught that they were fighting for the rights of the southern states. The idea of a war over slavery would not have occurred to most of these young men, we know that they are wrong of course, but please keep that in mind when you are reading.
> 
> Another note, I do NOT support or share any of Luke's pro-southern views on the Civil War.

Luke sat on that boulder at the edge of town until the sun came up. His head was pounding and he was more miserable than he had been before he started drinking. Climbing down from the boulder Luke made his way to the stable and saddled up his horse. It was eight hours to Outpost and he wanted to put as much distance between himself and the haunting woman he'd spent the evening talking to as he could. On the long ride home, try as he might, he couldn't help but think about the night before. He thought about Melody and the way he'd felt talking to her, he thought about how well she fit in his arms, and the press of her lips against his. About nine he stopped at Halfway House to water his horse.

 

Zeke saw Luke from the window and walked outside, removing his frilly apron as he did. “Didn't expect to see you here Luke? How long you been on the road?” Zeke pushed Luke through the door and sat him at the table.

 

Luke sighed “I was in Timberline all night, Zeke.” Taking a plate of food from Zeke, the young man ate in silence while Zeke stared at him. “You gonna stare at me while I eat or ask your questions already?”

 

Zeke started at the sharp tone of Luke's voice before speaking again. “Well, I was just wonderin' what'd you do in Timberline all night that has you looking so tired? Or should I ask who?” Zeke laughed at his own insinuation.

 

Luke looked up and glared at Zeke. “I don't really wanna talk about this right now, Zeke. I stayed up all night and had a bit to much to drink's all. You don't need to go 'round jumping to conclusions.” He snapped and pushed away from the table. Getting up he quickly cleaned his plate and headed to a bedroom. “I'm gonna get some sleep while I rest the horse...” Luke heard Zeke muttering something about manners and kept walking. In the room Luke took off his vest and shirt, hanging them on the bed post under his gun belt and hat. He laid down, throwing his arm over his eyes and tried to sleep. An hour later all he'd succeeded in doing was thinking about Melody. He could still feel her in his arms, the sweet smell of her perfume still lingered with him and when he thought of her lips to his own, and the grind of her hips against his he felt his cock stir to life.

 

With a groan he tried to will away his growing erection. When it didn't work he angrily unbuckled his belt. Lifting his hips he pushed his pants down and roughly took himself in hand. He shuddered at the feeling as his calloused hand wrapped around his hard cock and stroked deliberately, quick, and hard. He wanted this over, he wanted his body and his mind to stop betraying him with thoughts and reactions to Melody. He'd tried to imagine fucking the woman hard and fast in the hopes that he'd come quickly and could get her off his mind. Unfortunately, the harsh pace he'd set for himself did nothing but frustrate him further. No matter what he tried his mind kept feeding him images of sweetly making love to the woman occupying his mind. He ghosted his hand over his shaft as he imagined Melody's soft cool hands on his over heated flesh. His hips bucked as he envisioned her, naked and moaning, beneath him. He thought about the feel of her lips on his jaw and neck and whimpered. He couldn't help but imagine what else her mouth, with those full pouting lips, would be good at. Biting his lip not to moan out he sped up his hand and tightened his grip. He was close, and with a final thought of her nails scraping into his back he came with a violent shudder, biting his free hand not to call out with the force of it all. As he lay there catching his breath he felt empty and alone, he was sick to his stomach. He stood and crossed the room to the small wash basin in the corner. Cleaning the streaks of come from across his stomach he was disgusted with himself.

 

He couldn't figure out what is was about Melody that had him so turned around, so heart broken that she wouldn't have him and he couldn't place it. He'd talked to her for a few hours and kissed her a bit, that was all. He had no right to feel so connected to this woman he'd just met, no right to feel the anger and jealousy that was building in his chest at the thought of her being handled and fucked by strangers with a few shiny coins. And yet, as he thought about her now, he couldn't help but remember how close, how connected he'd felt to her as they talked about their homes and childhoods. He hadn't felt that close to a woman since he was young, before the war.

 

Luke had fancied himself in love with his colonel's granddaughter, Jolene. They'd spent hours in the hay loft of his academy talking long into the night. He'd told her every day that he'd come back an officer and marry her. He spent the night before he was supposed to go off to fight in her bed, making love to her until the sun came up. Shortly before the Battle of Lookout Mountain he'd learned that she'd died of a hemorrhage after she'd miscarried his child. He was sixteen, and that was the first and last time he'd turned tail and run from a battle. He couldn't understand what he was fighting for anymore. He knew what they'd told him in school. He was fighting for the rights of his family and his country, taxes and representation, he knew that. Really though, he'd fought for Jolene. She was what kept him going. He'd been shot in battle before and it was worth it knowing that eventually he'd go home to the girl he loved, but when he'd received word that she was dead he couldn't understand what the killing was about anymore. He'd shot a man at Lookout Mountain during the charge, and when he saw the blood spill from the man's body he was terrified. He'd taken a life that easily. He'd been told for so long that it was God's job to take and give life and here he'd been killing for a senseless war.

 

Luke bit back a sob. Melody made him think about too many things, the home and family he'd left when the war was over, the woman he'd loved and lost, the child he'd never had. It was too much, and in that moment it had all come to a head. He cried silently until there were no more tears to shed. Finally, exhaustion took him and he fell into a restless sleep full that was filled with images of the war and thoughts of Melody. Hours later he woke in a cold sweat, and jumped as a loud pounding came from the door. He climbed out of the bed and opened the door fixing Zeke with a dark glare. “What is it Zeke?”

 

Zeke pursed his lips and stared right back at Luke. “It's Seven, you've been asleep for ten hours. I'd've thought you died in her but the occasional scream told me you were still breathing. Look, Luke, I don't know what's got you in such a way. And I got no right to tell you how to live your life. But I've got at least thirty years on you and you got no right to come into this place and and treat me like I'm something you picked off the bottom of your boots. You can tell me what's eatin' ya or not. But if you plan on talking to me like that again you can get back on that high horse of yours and trot right back to where ya came came from!” Zeke turned on his heel and yelled back at Luke. “Dinner's ready, you can get yourself a plate if you can figure out how to get your head out of your ass long enough to eat it.”

 

Luke turned back into the room and got dressed. He felt foolish, there was no sense in treating Zeke like an enemy, even if he didn't want to tell the older man what was bothering him. Sheepishly, Luke walked into the common room and fixed himself a plate. “Zeke.” He addressed the older man's back. “I'm sorry... It was a difficult week for me and yesterday didn't make it any better. The short of it is that my granny died a few months ago and I just found out. The long of it... Well, I don't even know where to begin. But yes, a woman does have a bigger part in it than I'd care to admit.”  
  
Zeke sighed and turned to face Luke. “Sit down and eat before your food gets cold. I'm not gonna push you Luke, just remember to be nice to your friends.” The two ate chatting aimlessly before Luke saddled his horse and left.

  
Luke spent the next four hours of his trip back to outpost trying not to think about Melody. He found himself singing every time he managed to will his mind quite. The songs he sung would immediately bring her back to mind.

 

“ _The pride of the village, and the fairest in the dell,_

_Is the queen of my song, and her name is Fairy Belle;_

_The sound of her light step may be heard upon the hill,_

_Like the fall of the snow-drop or the dripping of the rill._

_Fairy Belle, gentle Fairy Belle,_

_The star of the night and the lily of the day,_

_Fairy Belle, the queen of all the dell,_

_Long may she revel on her bright sunny way._

_She sings to the meadows, and she carols to the streams,_

_She laughs in the sunlight, and smiles while in her dreams;_

_Her hair, like the thistle down, is borne upon the air,_

_And her heart like the humming bird's, is free from every care._

_Fairy Belle, gentle Fairy Belle,_

_The star of the night and the lily of the day,_

_Fairy Belle, the queen of all the dell,_

_Long may she revel on her bright sunny way._

_Her soft notes of melody around me sweetly fall;_

_Her eye full of love, is now beaming on my soul;_

_The sound of that gentle voice, the glance of that eye,_

_Surround me with rapture that no other heart could sigh._

_Fairy Belle, gentle Fairy Belle,_

_The star of the night and the lily of the day,_

_Fairy Belle, the queen of all the dell,_

_Long may she revel on her bright sunny way.”_

 

By the time he'd gotten back to Outpost Luke, was worse off than he'd been when he'd left the day before. He threw himself into his work and tried to think of anything else. He reshoed all the horses, repaired wagon wheels, finished the bookkeeping, and by the time Sime and Davey got back the next Friday Luke had even white washed the fence and blacked the iron.

 

By Sunday he had made up his mind. He was going to go back to Timberline tomorrow, money in hand to pay Melody to spend a night with him. He'd stay the night in her bed, give her the money, and finally be able to put her out of his mind once and for all.


End file.
